celebrity

March 5, 1980

March 5, 1980

My sister, Janet, on set for the movie, 9 to 5
My sister, Janet, on set for the movie, 9 to 5 in front of Dolly Parton’s motorhome
A couple other pictures taken of Janet on movie sets, perhaps Rhinestone and Rocky IV
A couple other pictures taken of Janet on movie sets, perhaps Rhinestone and Rocky IV

 My sister Janet worked as an Assistant Director trainee on the movie 9 to 5. When they needed children – extras – for the day care scene near the end of the movie, she thought of her nephew CD. I suggested Marjorie’s daughter Jenny, about the same age. I’m guessing Marjorie’s sister Christine acted as guardian because Marjorie and I had both been around enough sets to know how dull they can be – especially if you’re there to chaperone a lowly extra. In retrospect, I wish I’d seized the chance to see iconic actresses like Jane Fonda, Dolly Parton and Lily Tomlin at work even if it meant hours standing around.

9 to 5 Daycare Scene - Jenny being held, CD to the far left
9 to 5 daycare scene – Jenny being held, CD to the far left

Marjorie Arnold and I shared an apartment for a couple years while we were both at UCLA. She was an aspiring actress who landed commercials as well as parts on shows like “Room 222” and “Marcus Welby”. She was (and still is) a beautiful woman; some people described her as a “young Natalie Wood”. She was talented, too, and took her career very seriously.

Marjorie Arnold, 1972, when we were roommates
Marjorie Arnold, 1972, when we were roommates

Living with Marjorie, I grew grateful I wasn’t an actress. If you’ve seen La La Land, you’ve got some idea how brutal and demeaning auditions can be and how rarely people realize their dreams and become big stars.

Marjorie with her little dog Pepe
Marjorie with her little dog Pepe

While rejection is equally pervasive for fledging writers, it seems to me – and I could be wrong about this – rejection is less personal for writers. A producer says no to my script, not to me as a person – or so I tell myself.  I’ve never auditioned as an actress, but I suspect rejection in that capacity would feel more personal – as if they rejected me – even though, in reality, it’s probably not personal. They’re just looking for a different type.

January 21, 1994

January 21, 1994_edited-1

Steve & Linda
Steve & Linda

 As some of you recall, the Northridge earthquake struck on January 17, four days before this entry – but this 6.7 ten-second monster wasn’t over and gone like broken china.  The after-effects were massive and far-reaching. Steve and Linda (Angelique) were our two most affected friends – due to earthquake damage, their apartment was deemed uninhabitable, forcing them to move.  

Some of the group - Steve & Linda Stoliar, me, John, Jake Jacobson, Anne Kurrasch, Bobbi Goldin,Marva Fucci, Bill Atherton
Some of the group – Steve & Linda Stoliar, me, John, Jake Jacobson, Anne Kurrasch, Bobbi Goldin,Marva Fucci, Bill Atherton

 We were a close-knit group in ’94, we didn’t think twice about crossing town to lend a hand when one of our band suffered catastrophe (which didn’t happen all that often in the City of Angels). As of today, I’m still at least Facebook friends with everyone mentioned in the above entry – but I regret to report our paths have diverged. I’m not sure when or why it happened, but it did – much like other friendships that burned bright briefly and then faded for no reason, without ill feeling (at least, not on my side.)

Bill Atherton, John Rowell and Steve Stoliar
Bill Atherton, John Rowell and Steve Stoliar

I’d like to believe that nothing fundamental really changed – that we’d be there should a crisis arise – but the truth is I don’t even know where Steve lives these days. That said, it’s conceivable that should we find ourselves in the same location with a few hours of free time to talk, we’d discover that – time and distance notwithstanding – nothing fundamental actually did change. I hope so.

Me, Linda Field Stoliar, John Rowell, Steve Stoliar, Anne Kurrasch
Me, Linda Field Stoliar, John Rowell, Steve Stoliar, Anne Kurrasch

It’s probably a waste of time to quantify friendship and there’s no point looking back for longer than it takes to compose these diary blogs so I’ll focus on the present. I’m grateful to be FB pals with Steve –  reading his posts makes me remember good times and I feel like we’re close again.  I hope some of my diary postings affect people the same way.

November 18, 1985

november-18-1985

 I met Gene Simmons for the first time in  Gary Lucchesi’s  TriStar office. Gene was wearing leopard boots, a multi-strand choker with colored glass beads or gems and some sort of mesh bracelet. I’m pretty sure I looked like a PTA president by comparison in my dress and pantyhose. (What was I thinking???)  He liked my spec script and wanted me to write his movie project about groupies.

His plan was for me to attend a lot of rock concerts, go backstage, and soak up the scene. For those who read yesterday’s blog, Simon and Garfunkel’s empty dressing room at the San Jose Civic in ’67 was as close as I’d come to getting up close and personal with a rock star. (Not actually true. I met some heavyweights with Cindy Williams in 80 – but that was more of an “Industry” event, not a groupie scene).

Ms. Straight Suburban Mom
Ms. Straight Suburban Mom

I love rock music and I’m fascinated by the “secret society” that surrounds it – the novel I’m working on right now, in 2016, is set in the rock world.  The prospect of safely immersing myself in that world was enormously appealing – but so was my hope of adapting the Moonflower Vine, a novel by Jetta Carleton I’d loved since I read it in the sixties.

the-moonflower-vine-book-imageIt seems as if good things (such as opportunities, rewards, and kudos) as well as bad things (failure, rejection, and financial stress) tend to come in clusters.  Either there are two or three projects I want to write or I can’t get arrested. Two guys ask me out or I’m home alone on a Saturday night. I’ve always assumed it’s the same way for everybody (“buses always come in threes”) but I’ve never asked. Is it?

Actually, I don't mind spending Saturday nights alone if I've got something to read.
Actually, I don’t mind spending Saturday nights alone if I’ve got something to read.

Don’t bother looking up either of these projects on the internet. Another party already purchased all rights to the Moonflower Vine – forever – so there was no hope of optioning the underlying material. I wrote a draft of the groupies’ project for Gene and TriStar at which time it died, never to be resurrected (at least not with me as the writer).   In this case, these days of indecision – ripe with intoxicating possibilities – were as good as it gets.

 

November 17, 1967

 

november-17-1967 

Mary Canopa (Evans)
Mary Canopa (Evans)

I think this show took place at the San Jose Civic – is it still standing? I was – and still am – a devoted  Simon and Garfunkel fan.

Ticket stub for the Simon and Garfunklel concert
Ticket stub for the Simon and Garfunklel concert

I’m fascinated by boyhood friends who become successful creative collaborators only to discover they can’t stand each other and implode.  I’ve read several Paul Simon biographies –  all of them discuss the friction, none of them explain it in a way I understand. They’re far from the only paired performers to be so afflicted, though, so a lot of people probably relate.

Sweet shy Mary in our backyard in the sixties
Sweet shy Mary in our backyard in the sixties
Me in our backyard in the sixties
Me in our backyard in the sixties

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The truly remarkable thing about this night was Mary and I actually blazed a path all the way to Simon and Garfunkel’s admittedly empty dressing room. Granted, security would’ve been tighter if the stars were still on site, but factor in the fact Mary and I were as far removed from bona fide groupies as possible.  I wouldn’t have known what “groupie” meant, let alone believed there were girls who actually acted like that. (And there were. Lots of them.)

Mary and me suburban matrons - about a decade later
Mary and me suburban matrons – about a decade later

For another thing that makes you go “huh”, tomorrow’s diary blog finds me on a trans-Atlantic phone call with Gene Simmons in London; he wants me to write a groupie movie for him.  Stranger still, while I’m not as naïve as the girl fighting my way backstage at this Simon and Garfunkel concert 49 years ago tonight – I’m not that much wilder, either.

November 15, 1980

november-15-1980

This was an amazing day, full of promise, and it retains its magic quality in my memory even though almost nothing unfolded like expected. I got the assignment to adapt  S. E. Hinton’s classic novel, the Outsiders, for the screen. I did pose as a high school student and return to the high school I graduated from (more than a decade earlier) without getting busted.

Gio Coppola took this Polaroid of me with Fred Roos on this day.
Gio Coppola took this Polaroid of me with Fred Roos on this day.

Augie didn’t direct the movie, Francis did, which was the good news and the bad news. I’m awed by his talent; he directed some of the greatest movies of our time IMHO. How could this development possibly be bad? He’s an equally talented writer and took over the rewrite himself. When I saw the final shooting script, my name was nowhere to be seen.

Under the Writers Guild of America rules, this triggered an automatic arbitration because a production executive (director, producer etc.) sought screenplay credit. Three anonymous writers read all of our scripts and rendered a decision about screenplay credit. After a second and third arbitration and a Policy Review Board, I prevailed. It was a tense time.

After winning the arbitration - before the storm.
After winning the arbitration – before the storm.

This experience piqued my interest in the arbitration process and I volunteered to serve as an arbiter. Eventually I got to serve on the Policy Review Board, which I continue to do to this day.

Reading multiple drafts of the same script to decide who deserves screen credit provides a spectacular education in screen writing or, more accurately, rewriting. It was a front row seat to see exactly how scripts assume their final shape. I also learned a lot about human nature.

W/my sisters, wearing my Writer's Guild Strikes! tee-shirt. The WGA struck for the right to determine their own credits - and it was worth it.
W/my sisters, wearing my Writer’s Guild Strikes! tee-shirt. The WGA struck for the right to determine their own credits – and it was worth it.

There are significant financial rewards for getting your name on a script, even if the movie’s a bomb. That might have motivated a few writers to battle but I think most of them fought because they believed they deserved to win. It reminds me of the joke about the actor playing the gravedigger in Hamlet, who’s convinced the play is about the gravedigger. Time after time, writers clearly saw – and frequently exaggerated – their own contribution and missed or minimized the contribution of writers before or after them. I doubt I’m immune to this self-serving blind spot; no doubt I do the same thing, despite being aware of this trap.

I suspect this tendency isn’t restricted to actors and writers – that many, if not most, human beings focus on their own contributions to the exclusion of others regardless of their line of work.